Spiritbender
by Tsurai Shi
Summary: In an AU, Aang loses the battle against Ozai and death prevails. Nearly sixteen years earlier Sokka wakes with a start, again a mere babe and possessing a power he ought not to have…to distort emotions and make others feel. Eventual Sokka/Zuko slash.
1. Blood and Rebirth

_Leaves from the vine, falling so slow_

_Like fragile tiny shells, drifting in the foam_

_Little soldier boy, come marching home_

_Brave soldier boy, come marching home_

A/N: The first timeline of this story is an AU after the Western Air Temple.

**Spiritbender**

They'd known from the beginning, sure as the sun would rise the next day, that none of them would be alive to see it fill the air with its hue.

Aang had mastered all four elements - Air, Water, Earth, and Fire - but the last mastery had come too late. Just as the Avatar readied for the final battle with the malicious Fire Lord Ozai, Sozen's comet began its steady streak across the day-lit sky. The Earth and Water nations trembled in fear as the beautiful white light spelled their doom. Aang had mastery, but Ozai had mastery, experience, and held a cruelty that made him more than a match for Aang with the boost of the comet.

There was nothing the Avatar could do but fight…and he was too late.

Sokka's feet clapped the stone floor as he ran, searching for his companions through the wild wreaths of flame that surrounded him on all sides and tried to pull his flesh into their embrace as he passed.

"Katara? Katara, where are you?" the young man wasted precious breath with the call - the smoke trapped inside the Fire castle was slowly suffocating him. Sokka's only answer was a cry of pain as Aang crashed into a wall nearby, sent there by a blast of lightning from Ozai. Sokka had no chance to offer his help (and what help could he possibly be for the Avatar?) as he raised a sword to clash with an enemy's. Of course, Sokka wasn't good enough for a powerful bender to pay attention to - all he got to fight were half-rate soldiers that presented just enough challenge to keep him separated from the others. With a growl the warrior slipped his black sword in the chink between the shoulders and helmet of the enemy, killing the other instantly. Warm redness seeped down the jian onto Sokka's hands, but he simply flicked it away without remorse. Now wasn't any time to mourn the lives he took, he had to find Katara and Zuko - had to protect them. The time for mourning would come later.

Too late for Toph; Sokka was unable to do anything but fight his battles and watch out of the corner of his eye as thirty master firebenders took down the stubborn earthbender. In the end all that identified her as his former friend at all was a few pieces of her charred robes; a piece of Sokka died right along with her, and he knew that if he lived through this battle his grief would know no bounds.

Heat crackled across his flesh. The young swordsman felt his skin sear as he tumbled through another flame in search of his sister. "Katara!" Pain lanced through his side and Sokka pressed his hand to a seeping wound. _Damn the Yu-Yan archers for making me so weak…_ He could have found his sister faster without the arrow wounds he'd sustained.

Sokka tripped once more past another pillar, finally catching sight of his missing sibling.

"NO!"

Quickly evaporating water still pooled about her, tainted dark red with her blood. The girl's eyes were glazed. "KATARA!" A ring of fire bending soldiers lay around her, their bodies coated in lacerations from her water whip. Right beside her Sokka recognized the most hated form of Azula. She'd obviously gotten a lightning strike in on Katara before succumbing to her wounds - most likely it was that lightning that killed Katara...The death of Zuko's sister brought Sokka no satisfaction, not at the price it came for.

And where was Zuko? Wasn't he supposed to help protect his precious sister, even though she still resented the banished prince? He had sworn… but then the fugitive might be dead too…

Horrendous thoughts like that made the smoke-laden air suddenly more unbearable, choking him with unexpected weight. Sokka swayed unsteadily, rocked by another blast that signaled that his last friend Aang would soon fall prey to the black shadow of death as the others had. A strangled sob escaped the boy - soon he would be the only one left, and then what was the point of fighting anymore? Every person he'd been living for would be gone. Gone forever.

In that moment of despair perhaps Sokka didn't see the red-armored warrior run toward him, or perhaps he couldn't bring himself to care, but the Water tribe boy made no move to block the sword that plunged into his gut, wrenching out a scream. He sank to his knees, unable to move and push the attacker away as his senses returned. _NO! I have to help Aang before I die! I can survive this-_ the thought was cut off as the nameless enemy twisted the blade in his stomach, causing foul copper blood to well up and dribble over his chin as excruciating pain shot through him, making his body involuntarily writhe.

"Sokka!" he heard his name as if from a distance, so far away that it echoed like thunder in his ears. Before he could turn his head to see the caller, the soldier before him was burning, screaming in pain from a fireball thrown his way. Sokka fell to the side without support from the man's sword and he prepared to crash into the floor.

_Shit._

Vague surprise made itself known when he didn't meet hot stone, but warm arms that caught him and lowered him to the ground almost gently. Sokka's distorted vision grew blurrier by the moment, but with much effort he could still make out piercing golden eyes and a bloody, scarred face. Relief crashed through him like a wave. This person was alive, at least for now.

"Zu…ko…" Sokka managed to wheeze, choking slightly on his own blood that welled in his throat. The liquid spilled out of his mouth down the side of his cheeks, mingling with the blood of the enemies he'd already executed. A copper taste in Sokka's mouth grew, becoming nearly unbearable as Zuko's visage slipped in and out of focus. Maybe Sokka was imagining that frantic look on his face, or those shiny spots in his eyes that might be a sign of tears…Sokka wanted desperately to laugh - there was no way the angry jerk was crying for him.

"Stupid peasant! You let your guard down!" the prince tried to chastise him harshly, but Sokka felt the telltale tightening of the other boy's arms and fully realized that Zuko had not yet pulled the enemy sword out of his stomach, which the both knew would only hasten- "Don't even think about dying! Don't lea- Sokka, don't die…" Zuko's voice finally cracked; a product of the smoke and heat, Sokka could almost convince himself. All their carefully built barriers from the last year were falling away, and Sokka couldn't muster the energy to hide behind a joke anymore.

_I'm_ _sure the moment I enter the spirit world Iroh will be forcing tea on me and asking how you are._ The crack went unsaid, lost amid a gurgle.

Sokka's mind was becoming hazy; he could see black creeping at the edges of his consciousness and his breaths were coming harder as blood started to fill his lungs and spill on the floor and on Zuko. He was hyper-sensitive to every heartbeat and the pain it brought as more blood pumped out of his body even under the pressure of the firebender's hands as he tried to staunch the flow.

Spirits, how Sokka wanted to reassure his friend - wanted to tell him that it didn't really hurt, dying…even if that was a lie. With a final massive effort Sokka brought up a shaking hand to touch the prince's face as the boy holding him started to tremble. His fingers brushed Zuko's infamous scar for the first time, but he wasn't thinking of how the mark felt like soft sandpaper, or how it radiated heat just as the rest of his surroundings did.

Sokka thought of his sister, of Toph, the most certainly dying Aang, finally of Zuko, his inexplicable comrade from a friendship forged by war and similar goals - the destruction of the Fire Lord.

_If only…_

Sokka couldn't hold his hand up anymore, and let it fall away.

"…Sorry..." he finally gasped.

The last thing Sokka saw was burning gold eyes as his vision faded into painful black.

* * *

Cold winter air and the stunning warmth of love pervaded the animal skin tent, as a shrill cry erupted inside after a harrowing nine month wait.

"Congratulations from the Spirits, my daughter. You have a son!"


	2. A Second Take on Growing Up

**Chapter 2**

The smell of blood was what filled Sokka's nose as he died, and also as he awoke to the darkness behind his eyelids, dazed and confused as voices cut through the air around him. He felt strangely warm, in contrast to the searing heat of moments before.

"…Kaya, look here!"

"What's the matter mother? Is there something wrong with the baby?" a frantic but worn voice asked the first anxiously. Warm hands touched his back and Sokka started, struggling to open his eyes. Wasn't he dead? Where was Zuko?

_What happened?_

"Nothing's wrong but…look at his back, dear..."

A small gasp came from somewhere near him, and Sokka redoubled his efforts to fully wake. He needed to see what was going on!

"Is that…? It looks like a tattoo!"

An old voice, so familiar it almost made him relax, hummed, "A red ring with three dots inside…I've never seen such a symbol before! I have no idea what it could mean, but perhaps…Such a strange birthmark is a sure sign of great things to come. He will need a fitting title. What are you going to name him, my dear?"

Something didn't feel right. Hadn't Sokka died? He was supposed to be in the afterlife now, but he certainly didn't feel dead. Something was strange. What were those voices - obviously female, now he thought of it - talking about? …Why couldn't he move his arms and legs?

They were too small.

"I've thought of the perfect name for him. Hakoda will be so happy I named his son after his grandfather!…Sokka - that is his name."

Finally Sokka managed to wrench his eyes open; he focused on the face the belonged to the pair of arms encompassing him - the long-forgotten face of his mother, the mother who'd died nine years ago.

Everything was so wrong.

* * *

It took three days for Sokka to come out of his shock and realize that this wasn't the afterlife and that he wasn't dead. Somehow, the great Spirits had declared that he would go back and be reborn…it was the only conclusion Sokka could think of that even made the tiniest bit of sense. Perhaps Yue had helped send him back? The thought made the boy's heart ache with melancholy.

In those three days Sokka hadn't made a sound, not crying once as a normal newly-born baby would. When he finally pulled out of his funk he guessed that perhaps that was a mistake, but he couldn't bring himself to care when he was able to see the face of his mother every waking moment. Sokka could practically feel the love that radiated from Kaya's clear blue eyes when she looked at him in his form as a tiny baby. These feelings washing over him brought a hollow ache to his chest as Sokka remembered the circumstances of her death, in the raid from the Fire Nation.

Perhaps, this time he could save her from her fate…The thought struck him like a bolt out of the blue. With his knowledge of what would happen in the future - his past - he would be able to save everyone! Toph, his mother, Yue, Aang, his precious sister Katara, who'd yet to be born…even Zuko, the traitorous prince…Sokka would be able to save all the people he cared for most, his family, and give them the happy ending they all so rightfully deserved.

As this sudden realization overwhelmed him Sokka felt the empty place inside him fill with bright, shining hope. He would save them!

* * *

Kaya gasped as her little boy sniffled, looking down to see fat tears welling up over soft baby cheeks. Strangely similar to the past few days, Sokka did not wail or make any further noise. She had seen other women in the village with their children, and all were loud and obnoxious, screaming for food and attention to keep them happy. The wife of the Southern Water tribe chief had grown worried as time went on without a peep from her son. Although she fed and changed him regularly, weren't babies supposed to make some sound of complaint?

When she went to her mother, Gran-Gran Kanna simply tapped her wrinkled chin with a glove and smiled, "Perhaps the reason for it is the mark? Your child is truly special, dear. I have no doubt that nothing is wrong with him." Her mother's words served to reassure her, so Kaya spoke no more of it. But when even her beloved yet oblivious husband Hakoda remarked on tiny Sokka's silence, she couldn't help but let the tiniest niggling sense of worry grow.

Another sniffle brought her attention to the present as a little trail of snot dribbled from the baby's nose. Kaya couldn't help but giggle at the devastatingly cute picture he presented, wiping the snot away with her sleeve…Then the boy smiled at her for the first time.

Kaya felt her heart melt as she looked into clear blue eyes so like her own. With one hand she tucked dyed-blue skins closed around the baby and kissed his brown forehead.

"I love you, my little Sokka."

* * *

The wind howled eerily outside the village walls, causing Sokka to shiver slightly as some of the icy chill tried to seep through his layers. Despite the cold, the boy rapidly approaching his second winter sat without complaint beside his father. Really, Hakoda's strong presence was the only thing that kept the boy from fleeing from the sounds inside the tent at their rear.

Sokka winced as another cry sounded and a tingle of pain and frustration ghosted up his back. "Dad?"

Hakoda jerked in surprise and looked up at the small boy. Strangely enough, Sokka talked very little compared to other children his age. He was still just a tiny tyke, and it always surprised Hakoda when he spoke.

"Yes, Sokka?" he gave the boy his full attention. Sokka cocked his head and turned an uncannily piercing gaze on the older man.

"If having babies hurts so much, why do moms always want to have them?" The question stunned a laugh out of Hakoda, not being at all what he expected.

"That's a difficult question to answer! I suppose it's because they cherish the new life the Spirits give to them. Plus, women need children to watch over and scold, or else they get bored," he winked and ruffled Sokka's hair, mussing his already erratic style and causing the boy to yelp and scowl at him.

The moment was broken by another cry - a wail this time, high-pitched and keening. A new little girl had entered the world, destined to be one of the greatest waterbenders of all time. Her older brother grinned to himself.

* * *

Kaya's new girl resembled Sokka greatly; though the mother was grateful she had no strange marks on her body. Kaya didn't know if she could handle any more of her own mother's cryptic whisperings about Sokka's destiny. Really, who needed fate when they had such a precious bundle of life in their arms, especially when it was sleeping so peacefully?

"Mom?" Kaya's head whipped around to see the short form of her little boy standing near the tent flap. She smiled gently, "Come see your new little sister, Sokka," she beckoned. Sokka smiled back at her and moved to her side with a measured pace that look very strange on the toddler that he was, but Kaya had long since given up questioning the oddities of her oldest child. He was a quiet boy with no one his age to play with, who seemed more interested in drawing patterns in the snow and carving fish bones than penguin sledding and playing war games like boys his age typically did. The fact that he spoke in coherent sentences at all was a marvel for his age.

Sokka knelt on her sleeping skins and pulled off his gloves. Kaya smiled again as he reached to touch the girl's cheek delicately, acting as if the baby were fragile as ice under the summer sun. The girl stirred and yawned, but didn't wake.

"What's her name?" Sokka's voice was full of wonder, but the question made Kaya frown.

"We haven't decided on a name yet. Neither your dad nor I can think of anything that seems right…" the woman sighed, feeling slightly sad that her second-born would have to wait for her name.

"Katara."

"Hmm?" she hummed, startled.

Water-painted eyes met her own, filled with something that Kaya couldn't identify, but made her feel as though she should reach out and pull her son under the covers and into her arms. She wasn't one to resist her urges, so she did so.

"Her name…should be Katara…" he said, voice muffled by her shoulder.

Kaya smiled warmly, hugging the two children close and looking down at her girl. "That's the perfect name, Sokka."

* * *

Condensation dripped from the tent wall, landing with a small splat on Sokka's face. The little boy jerked with a gasp; instinctively a small brown hand closed on a weapon that wasn't there. The boy sniffed as he realized what had woken him and rubbed his nose. A small groan sounded beside him - Sokka winced and stilled. If he woke Katara by disturbing her sleeping pelts, he'd have to deal with a whiny four-year-old and an earful from Mom.

Sokka glanced across the tent to take in the still forms of his parents beneath their furs. _Good, they're still asleep._ As quietly as possible, Sokka pulled on his turtle-seal skin boots and jacket and stole from the tent. He could already see the hints of the sun rising in the east, where broad bands of pink, purple and orange showed over the tall walls of hardened ice that surrounded his home. Sokka yawned and stretched. It had taken years to train his body to the point where he could actually function in the morning, almost from the moment of his birth. The Water Tribe boy was not a happy camper during the early days where he could barely keep his body functioning without ten hours of sleep. He never remembered sleeping so much or so heavily before - but then, things were different this time around.

With purposeful strides Sokka moved to the eastern wall. He had perhaps thirty minutes before the first hunters got up to set out for the day, and at this point his body of five years could only handle twenty-five minutes of working-out, including stretches. Such a limitation was infuriating when Sokka was used to handling a jian, boomerang, and multiple other weapons easily, but the young warrior had to start somewhere and so dealt with his restrictions as best he could. That didn't stop the tirade of complaints within his own mind, though.

Not a day went by when Sokka didn't muse on his memories of the past, trying out every possible scenario and figuring out what he could do to prevent it. As a little boy he wasn't expected to do much around the village, and where before Sokka might have resented not being able to do anything, now he used the time to his advantage. The age would come where his constantly-revised plans would need to be set in motion, but in the meantime Sokka had decided he would train his body at least a little, to ingrain some crucial form and grace he'd been missing in the early years.

The thought made Sokka snort. If only the older Katara had heard that! She'd laugh at the mere notion of his oafy self being graceful. Even Aang would tell him to his face that Sokka was clumsy - it just part of who he was. Sokka's face hardened as a pang of loss shot through him, igniting pathways of emotion that led to bitter memories. No! He would not think about them right now…he had things to do.

Sokka carefully stretched every part of his body thoroughly. If he ended up with a pulled muscle he'd have to explain what he'd been doing, and he definitely didn't want that. Then he would have to say why he was training, and Sokka did not want to lie to his parents or anyone else in the village. They were his people - his family - and he loved them, but one thing he was absolutely sure about was that he couldn't tell them what had happened to him; not even Gran-Gran, the one most likely to understand. If Sokka had never trusted his instincts before, he definitely did now, when every sense screamed at him that everything would go wrong if he did…

Sokka finally reached his favored training spot just outside the village wall. The surface of the snow there was flat and hard, not quite ice but a sturdy surface nonetheless. He dug around in the jacket pocket and pulled out his ulu, a small women's knife. Sokka would not be allowed a real weapon until next year, when he could go out on his 'first' sea lion hunt with the tribe men. Although it miffed Sokka and he'd thrown a small fit that ended with a few harsh words from Hakoda, Sokka learned to make do with what he had. Still, he didn't feel quite dignified holding the little squirrel-toad sticker when he was used to wielding much heftier weapons.

Sokka held the knife loosely at his side, mimicking the beginning stance of the first knife kata he knew and let the soothing voice of memory wash over him. Though the group had had little time together, Zuko had not spent all his time teaching Aang firebending. Sokka distinctly remembered accosting the banished prince when Aang was off with Katara, practically demanding that he be taught something of the other boy's unique fighting style. Zuko refused, citing that the form would take many years to master - much more time than they had. In an attempt to stem Sokka's disappointment, he offered to teach the warrior a simple, effective form using a knife that had been a gift from Iroh. Now that Sokka thought about it that was probably when the first seed of real friendship had grown between them.

He just hoped he'd have a chance to see the prince smile like that again…

With no hint of warning, Sokka's hand moved in a flurry to stab the air.

* * *

Hakoda watched his son as the boy balanced in the canoe, his legs spread apart and the bulky spear held still above his head. Sokka seemed to have little patience with the fish coming to him, as he often threw the spear when they got even a little close.

"You need to be more patient, Sokka," the father sighed for a third time, "You have to wait for the fish to come to you." He helped Sokka pull in the spear after another missed attempt.

The small boy grinned sheepishly at him, as always, "Sorry, Dad. I keep forgetting." Sokka held the spear aloft again and waited, muttering something that Hakoda could swear was "stupid fish!" The man wanted to laugh aloud, but that would scare their prey away. Instead he settled for chuckling and watching his boy's impatient attempts to jab the fish swimming just under the surface.

Hakoda had been observing the entire morning and he'd gradually become aware of something…bizarre about Sokka's movements. Whenever the boy jabbed or threw the fishing spear the movement fell short, almost as if he expected his arm to have a longer reach.

Hakoda shook his head as yet another oddity of Sokka's came to the forefront. Kaya had mentioned from the beginning that something was different about their son, and it became more apparent as he grew older. He didn't know exactly when his son had said his first words, but Hakoda knew from Kaya it had been amazingly early, as was his development in walking. The boy's movements were smooth, with very little of the stumbling about that usually accompanied children his age. When Bato noticed this he'd laughed, slapping Hakoda on the back and commenting that Sokka already possessed the makings of a fine warrior.

Hakoda supposed this was true, but that wasn't the only thing strange. Kaya told him, late at night when the children were asleep, of Sokka's actions within the village walls while the tribe's men were out hunting. He stuck close to his mother, always offering to help her around the village and to prepare food. Once Kaya had even caught him sewing – _sewing_ – under the delighted tutelage of his little sister.

In the years before Hakoda even thought about having children of his own, he'd observed young boys playing among the village tents. They spent their time chucking ice at passing seabirds, fighting with each other, and trying to catch penguins for sledding. Sokka did none of these things, often wandering off to the other end of the village and nearby ice shelves. His behavior worried Hakoda, but Gran-Gran often warned him to leave the boy to his own devices, because he was meant for something special and they shouldn't interrupt his path. Hakoda respected Kaya's mother and her opinions on the matter of his son, but none of that would quell his worrying.

Hakoda was dragged from his thoughts by a splash as the canoe rocked. He turned, preparing to scold Sokka for being impatient again, only to have a wriggling silver fish shoved in his face.

"Dad, I got one! See, see?" Sokka was grinning now. Hakoda let himself laugh.

"Good job. At this rate, we might be able to feed your sister dinner by nightfall!" he joked. Sokka pouted at his teasing, turning back to try for another fish.

* * *

"Agh! Stupid needle!" Sokka glared at the bone needle in his hand as he stuck the bleeding finger of the other in his mouth. Katara giggled helplessly as he continued griping aloud at the needle, the jacket he was trying to repair, and sewing itself.

The only reason he was in this situation in the first place was because he'd wanted to start being around his sister more than he'd been. Sometimes it felt a bit like he was neglecting her, since he always went off alone. And after long years of recalling their constant arguments, Sokka really wanted to be closer to her this time around.

At first he'd considered teaching her what he knew of the basic waterbending forms, but threw that notion away as soon as it came. Being as smart as she was, Katara would want to know where he'd learned them; let alone the inquisition from the other tribe members that he would face if they got wind of it. He also refused the idea of taking her out fishing. He still remembered the hours of shivering after the last soaking he'd gotten while in a boat with her. Not. Fun.

"Sokka, you've gotta watch it! You keep hurting yourself 'cause you space out." Katara grinned at him, her smile so infectious that he couldn't help but smile back. His sister was a natural teacher even at this young age, and as little as Sokka himself enjoyed this, he knew that Katara enjoyed spending time with him and actually getting to be above him in a skill for once in her young life.

The brother simply huffed and smiled, tugging one of Katara's long hair loops because he knew she hated it, and turned back to his stitching.

* * *

Winds howled about outside and the sides of the family tent moved in time to the gusting. In the midst of the storm, only Sokka lay awake as he stared at the ceiling of their shelter.

His neck tingled and brown fingers crept to touch the base below his necklace. He knew what lay there, but had never seen it with his own eyes. Gran-Gran had drawn it for him one quiet day in the snow. One unbroken circle, and three dots that formed a triad within...

"_Such a strange shape, and such a peculiar red, Sokka. You don't see that shade often in the Water tribes. Truly, you are meant for something great, my dear…"_

Red, like the Fire Nation. Red like the blood spilt trying to bring peace but only wrought death - on his own skin.

Sokka's hand jerked away, his body burrowing deep into blue-dyed skins.

_The time is coming soon…everything will change._


	3. Control

**Chapter 3**

"_He who controls others may be powerful, but he who first masters himself is mightier still."_

_-Lao Tzu_

Katara had always known that there was something different about her brother.

He wasn't crazy or shy, angry or sickeningly sweet. He just was. He cared for her and mom and dad. He spent time playing with her, building snow castles or taunting penguins with shiny silver fish. He untangled her hair when they rolled in the snow and it stuck to pieces of ice. He often stood by, shielding her from the wind when she shivered. During the day he always seemed to know where she was. That particular skill made hide and seek nearly impossible.

Sokka loved her, and she him, but he was different. She didn't think he even noticed how he flinched every time a villager slipped on a patch of ice, or when a carver's knife slipped and created a cut in her skin. Even when he did not see them, his back stiffened almost unnoticeably. Katara found it strange.

He didn't know how often she woke when the moon was high, disturbed by his thrashing even as Sokka's mutters and moans were muffled by the walls of their new igloo. A hanging skin was all that separated them from their parents, but it was enough that they were not bothered. Katara tried to wake her brother, but he would not come from his dreams. In the end, she always resorted to curling close. Something in Sokka always seemed to sense her there, for his arms always wrapped around her tiny form soon enough and he became still.

Sokka was her brother, her only playmate, and sometimes, it seemed, her guardian spirit. Katara didn't have to listen to Gran-Gran's muttering to know something deep and unidentifiably different lay within him - whatever it was, it was vast and far beyond her understanding - but Katara wasn't afraid. Nothing would make her afraid of her mysterious, protective older brother.

But the way he stared in sheer horror, standing still as black snow started to fall on the village, told her that he knew something she didn't - and she became afraid _for_ him.

"Sokka?" He turned to look at her, mouth open, but then his body convulsed suddenly as men in red poured over their walls. Katara froze, but her brother emitted a low keen, collapsing into the snow. The tribesmen dashed by, eager to defend their village. In face of the sudden bleak situation, she did what any seven-year-old would do.

"Mom!"

* * *

Spirits, the pain. Sokka felt overwhelmed. Just as the light of realization came over him he was hit with a sudden inexplicable wave. _Fear. Anger. Righteousness. _A burgeoning sea of utter brutality that submerged him in mere seconds as his mind was overwhelmed.

Emotions. They were all emotions not his, clamoring around at every side, pulsing, pushing, flaying him to ribbons.

_Protect-_

_Hurt-_

_Fight-_

_Kill-_

"Kaya!"

* * *

Kanna was becoming increasingly wary of her grandson.

Her daughter's death had taken a toll on all of them. Kaya, bright beautiful Kaya, had been killed protecting Katara's life from the ravages of the firebenders. Her blood was the only thing that stained melting snow in great profusion. Kanna remembered the cries that reverberated through camp as her charred body was discovered. Then they'd found Sokka, shivering and just hovering on the edge of consciousness in a pile of freezing snow.

The funeral was quick - Kaya's last canoe set off as the tide lowered, pulling it far beyond the horizon to the land of Spirits. The next months took their toll on everyone, but especially the family. Katara's face grew wan as grief ate at her, even as she worried about the Fire Nation discovering what they'd missed and coming back to kill her and the rest of her family. Hollow-cheeked and filled with anguish at the loss of his wife, Hakoda suffered in silence. While the rest of the tribe mourned, her son-in-law planned - they'd received word that their sister tribe in the North might need help…

But it was Sokka that concerned her most. The morning after he awoke from the strange fit, her grandson went silent. His face was pale beneath dark skin and his eyes, deep water-eyes, had drained, leaving cold stone orbs as blue and hard as her ancient engagement necklace. He did not smile, did not run or play. Every morning since the invasion, Kanna had caught the boy outside in the wee hours, moving about like a maniac. She could tell it was training, but that didn't soothe her spirit. The boy was hiding something from the rest of them and the old woman needed to know what. The day had passed when she could let Sokka's small oddities go and still keep peace of mind.

* * *

Sokka could feel her approach. That fact sent a shiver down his spine - he knew who she was despite her quiet footsteps and even breathing.

He felt a deep current within her, like water rushing fast and strong between ice floats. He felt the constant weariness of age, sadness, concern and…a small, miniscule bit of fear. Fear that sent tiny darts of ice into his heart.

Sokka shuddered, finally giving up on his pretense of ice fishing, and looked up. Gran-Gran's wizened face blended with a clouded sky, but her eyes pierced him, searching for something. Something he did not understand, but there was a near distrust in her gaze, and that hurt more than anything he "felt" from her.

"Please, Gran-Gran, don't be afraid of me." The words choked him. Sokka's grip on his pole tightened. Gran-Gran jerked and her eyes widened in surprise to match his own. He hadn't expected to say that.

"Grandson, I-"

"Gran-Gran," he interrupted. The pole fell from his fingers as Sokka rose to his knees on the ice and faced his grandmother. "I'm so sorry, I…I don't know what to say."

She frowned. "There is nothing for you to apologize for, Sokka-" Sudden confusion emanated from her, bogging down Sokka's brain further. How he wanted to trust her, to make her comprehend…

"No, I- You don't understand. Please Gran-Gran, this is my fault! I felt them coming, I could've stopped them, could've warned everyone. I could've saved Mom. I felt her, I felt her fear when- when…she d-died," he tumbled words into a rush that he knew made no sense, but they'd been fighting their way out for a long time. Utter despair washed over him as he saw no comprehension in her eyes, only bewilderment.

"Please, you have to believe me, Gran-Gran! I- it was too much. I touched too much, too much fear - anger - th-their hate. I couldn't take it." _And I collapsed like a stupid weakling. WEAK AFTER ALL THIS WORK! I swore that I'd save Mom, that I would find some way - but I forgot, stupid, idiot-_

Sokka only pulled out of his funk when Gran-Gran laid a hand on his shoulder. His head snapped up, and as he looked into her eyes he was startled to see her face sunken and eyes shiny with tears. He'd never seen Gran-Gran cry…

"Sokka. I need you to calm down. I believe you, grandson," she looked him dead in the eyes, hers flickering with something he didn't understand. "You must calm down."

He held back a sob. Gran-Gran was staring, but she believed him - she knew and understood…

The old woman pulled the boy to his feet and gave him a brief, firm hug. "Come to my tent, Sokka. There is much we must speak of better said somewhere besides the ice planes."

* * *

Well after Sedna had risen, nearly-full and beautiful in the sky, Kanna sighed and pressed her wrinkled face into her hands.

Her grandson was something more than human.

It took her nearly half the morning to get the boy calm enough to explain exactly what he'd experienced, and what he'd told her had set her back on her heels. She recalled his doleful eyes as he described the emotions of everyone within the village at that moment, from the cheerful babes waddling in the snow outside to the desolate emptiness of his father sheltered on the far end of the wall. He could _feel_ them.

Kanna peered out of the tent flap at the shining face of the moon, high and cool in the spring night. Sokka was a child of destiny – she was surer now than ever before. She had calmed him, promised to help him gain control of the feelings ravaging inside him.

She had not mentioned the incident out on the ice. To think that the boy could control what she felt, could overwhelm her with his panic until she found it nearly hard to breathe – she shuddered. Sokka could hardly deal with his current situation, let alone the implications of being able to control the feelings of those around him. She could already imagine him constantly trying to soothe the raw hearts of his father and sister, but to no avail. That would hurt him more than help them.

A year, maybe two. She would teach Sokka to meditate, to remain calm in the face of situations fraught with emotion, and perhaps then she would tell him of the full extent of his powers. The boy was already humble, already so aged that she could not bear to see her grandson become any further jaded, but Kanna knew that was not to be. Sokka had a great destiny before him, and she would do her best to make sure he had the steadiest feet fit to walk that path.

Tears slipped out of her eyes as Kanna clasped her hands and sent a desperate prayer to the spirits Sedna and Shui - a prayer to save her grandson from himself.

* * *

Sokka felt no panic after what he'd told Gran-Gran, only relief. She had promise to help him - train him in the art of peace - and still he had given nothing away of his past life.

But this did not relieve his sadness. He had failed his mother because of his sudden power, his weakness. And if he could not save his own mother, what hope did he have of saving his friends and others he loved so much? He wanted to scream and cry and lie down, to never get up again.

But try as he might, Sokka's mind was still sixteen years older than his body, and its hardened determination would not allow him to give up. Loneliness tried to take him, but he fought back. Though no one in this life understood him, one day he swore they would.

He would train and gain control. Then he would change the world.

Sokka shivered as he felt a burst of loneliness emanate from his sister as they both tried to fall asleep. Without a word he pulled her into his arms, and Katara turned and pushed her face into his sleep tunic. He pressed his cheek into her hair, pushing away images of her older blood-coated body, and vowed that no matter what else went wrong in this life, he would never leave his sister to die alone again.

* * *

A year went by. Sokka rose before the sun, his body finally able to take hours of training as he grew stronger and more flexible. The villagers said nothing when they finally caught him at it; they thought they understood. Bato had even offered knowledge for club techniques that went beyond 'swing and smash.' There was no way Sokka could express how grateful he was to the man, despite his misguided assumption that Sokka was training to keep his mind off things, or for the slim chance that the Fire Nation came back for something other than the last waterbender in the South Pole. The second one was partially right, but Sokka didn't bother to mention it to anyone.

Days blurred into each other as Sokka hunted with his father and the other men. He began to notice life return to Hakoda's eyes as Bato made him laugh and the older man named Kappa told stories of monsters, princesses and spirits. Sokka knew that, like before, his father would never regain that certain vitality and ease that he'd had before the war touched their lives, but he was glad to see his dad recovering, however slowly.

After the hunt was over and the men unloaded their cargo from the pulling sleds, Sokka always found himself in front of his grandmother's tent. Gran-Gran usually welcomed him inside with some hot stew and a long talk. She spoke to him of all she knew about the spirit world, about bending and the history of their people. And she talked about the war, of the Fire Nation, and what had prompted her to come to the South Pole. Sokka had never known this side of his grandmother before. As a young boy, he'd never had the time or patience to listen to her, but now he would not trade her wealth of knowledge and her company for the world. Despite all caution, he asked question after question.

When their talking was through, Gran-Gran always crossed her legs and sat upright. He followed her example, closing his eyes and counting breaths. _In, 1,2,3,4,5,6,7...Hold, 1,2,3,4,5,6,7..._ And as his body relaxed from the stress of the day and the ocean of the villager's emotions washed over him, Gran-Gran's voice became soft and smooth, never disturbing him even as his thoughts divided between breathing and her words.

"Inner peace is the product of will, control, and faith. We must flow with the world but keep tight hold of ourselves. Let everything wash over you - let it ebb and flow, like the tide, and focus on your soul. Your inner will is what is important here…" and so she spoke. Sokka only began to notice the change later - when his sister started to smile again and neither her loneliness nor her joy overwhelmed him. When Paka, mother of twins, slipped on some ice her momentary fear did not pain him, simply prompted him to help her back to her feet. When she smiled gratefully, Sokka merely felt warm inside.

The day after his ninth birthday, Gran-Gran came to him. Sokka looked up from Katara's hands, with which she'd been teaching him a complicated stitch pattern to add some style to the repair on his furry jacket. He merely nodded and rose when the old woman asked to speak with him.

He followed her back to her tent, puzzled. They usually did not meet for several hours after the present time. Gran-Gran would not look at him as she sat down. He sensed her hesitation.

"What's wrong, Gran-Gran?" he asked, growing concerned.

She sighed. "I do not know how much you remember about that day at the ice hole, Sokka, but there is something else I think you are prepared to know about your abilities… as far as I have been able to ascertain, they are a bit like…waterbending. You were feeling distressed that day, and though I did not mention it afterward, your emotions were flowing into me and smothering my own."

Sokka paled.


	4. Of the Broken and Smothered

**Chapter 4**

Sokka's grandmother was a straightforward person very blatant in her words, but sometimes he wished she would put things a bit more delicately…

"…_your emotions were flowing into me and smothering my own."_

He clenched his fists inside suddenly too-warm mittens. That day at the ice hole was not one he liked to look back on. He still felt an acute sense of shame for his behavior that day, and now he understood why. He looked up at his grandmother, who was staring at him with calm eyes, but he could detect the hardness behind them.

"Are you saying I can do…an emotion-bendy thing?" he waved his hands to demonstrate, hoping that maybe he'd misinterpreted her words. He almost grinned when the woman twitched, but soon fell back when she nodded. "No way…I can't…but - _how_?" Sokka's face burned red as he was reduced to floundering. Gran-Gran was anything but amused, however.

"From what I gathered that day…when you feel an emotion strongly enough, you are able to transfer it to others until they feel it as if it were their own," Gran-Gran said, her eyes grave.

Sokka swallowed. "If-if I can do that, why hasn't it happened again? I'd…be bringing people down left and right." The words were accompanied by the tightening of his lips. He did not like admitting his feelings out loud. Even though he knew better, some part of him still felt as though speaking of his often-depressive emotions was a weakness.

The old woman's brow knitted. "Oh, Sokka…what have I been teaching you for the past year?"

"…Control."

"Yes. And not just over your ability to feel others. You've been working for emotional control, grandson. It normally takes decades for a single person to come to peace with themselves, but you are already very close. Because of this I decided to tell you now, so that you may decide just what you want to do with your power."

Sokka's eyes jerked to meet hers. "Power?" He'd never heard that word pass her lips before in reference to his ability. He'd only heard it when talking about Katara's waterbending and the capabilities of the rest of the Nations. Yes, power. Controlling emotions…_I could arrange so people act a certain way. Dear Shui, this is even worse than bloodbending. People wouldn't even know I was controlling them…I-I'd be some sort of monster!_

He stared down at his glove-ensconced hands, unable to meet his grandmother's eyes. He jumped when he felt a wave of empathy roll off her, even more startled by that than her hand on his shoulder.

"Yes, power, Sokka. Power can be a dangerous thing, especially in your case. It may be incredibly tempting to use it on a whim, to belittle it and abuse other's rights for your own purposes. Tell me, can I trust you not to use your influence for malicious purposes?"

"I-what do you-?" Sokka stuttered.

"I already know what _I_ believe, grandson. It is what _you_ believe that is important here. You will be the one living your life and dealing with the consequences of your actions, not I."

He drew a shuddering breath. "I…don't believe in controlling others against their will, Gran-Gran." When he looked up, Sokka's eyes were full of tears, but manly tears. Definitely manly tears. "If I have to…I will use it for good."

His grandmother smiled for the first time since entering the tent. "That was what I needed to know. You are a good boy, Sokka, and there are few I would rather trust my teachings to." Without further ado she hugged him. Her words impacted his heart and stuck there. This conversation would linger in the back of his mind for years as he grew.

"Thanks, Gran-Gran."

* * *

"What?"

"Don't do that! I nearly cut you!" Katara jerked at his wolf-tail, forcing Sokka to settle back into his lotus position. She rubbed a bit more oil on the side of his head and proceeded to shave at the hair again with her ulu. Normally Sokka would have his Dad or Gran-Gran help him with this, but Katara had volunteered to trim his hair down this time. He knew her hands were steady, as evidenced by her perfect stitching and even hide-tanning skills, but Sokka had felt vaguely suspicious at the enthusiasm that gushed off her. Now he knew why.

"I'm not going to grow my hair long like a-a gir-" he suddenly realized that it was probably best not to antagonize the knife-wielding sister behind him. She'd likely poke that stupid blade into his head just to get back at him. "Uh, like an older warrior."

She sighed in an exasperated tone that he'd heard far too many times not to recognize. "I'm not saying you should grow _all_ of your hair out, just the tail. Then I could braid it and put beads and stuff in it."

Sokka only felt bemused. "Beads and stuff? Why?"

"Because it'd be fun! And you know, it'd look cool…"

He frowned. "That's not very practical though, Katara. I can't hunt bear-fox and turtle-seals if they hear me coming a mile away."

"I could braid it so that they wouldn't make noise! Come on, Sokka, pleeeease?" she was in front of him and giving him her kitten eyes full force. The boy sighed - it wasn't often that his sister begged, and he'd already experienced far more girlish humiliation in his Kyoshi uniform than any growth of his hair was going to match. He supposed he could be glad this was the first time his sister had ever felt any compulsion to dress him up. Sokka shuddered, imagining the horrors she could inflict with access to an Earth Kingdom bazaar.

"Alright! I'll grow it out, jeez." Sokka rolled his eyes when she grinned and went back to shaving his head, but smiled despite himself.

His sister was happy, and that was really all that mattered.

* * *

Katara was different from last time.

Sokka wondered what had happened. It wasn't a bad different - just a subtle current he could feel underneath. Her pain - the pain of their mother's death was still there, but somehow muted - almost as if she was moving on. For five years their family had survived, supported by their precious tribe. In that time no one had told Katara the reason behind their mother's death. Sokka strongly suspected his father knew, if not understood, the reason Kaya had died. But Katara did not know and he deigned to keep it that way.

She was living - she wasn't brooding about death and destruction - stewing in her memories and asking why. Sokka almost laughed at the thought. What a turnaround! This time it was he who reflected on the death of their mother through a darkened mirror of mistakes and amidst a slow ache for vengeance…

Sokka shook his head harshly, creating a tiny jangle about his ears. He shouldn't be thinking about this - he had turtle-seals to catch! He wasn't about to let Hakoda's trust in his solitary hunting abilities to go to waste this day.

* * *

Only as Sokka was dragging his sled of kill out of the ice shelves by the village walls did he feel a spike of staggering pain. Pain was quickly followed by fear and a piercing wail rent the air.

Without a second thought Sokka dropped his load and sped toward the sound, bounding over hardened snow banks and crevices. He rounded the corner of the wall at full speed and almost trampled the originator of the horrible shrieking. It was Kappu, one of Paka's three-year-old boys.

From what the young warrior could discern amid his thrashing, Kappu had gotten away from his mother and then slipped on the ice, landing on his arm. Sokka sucked in a breath at the unnatural angle the little boy's wrist was bent at.

"Mama! Mamaaaaaaaa!" he screamed, seeming not to see Sokka at all. Sokka heard something else crack and he knew if Kappu didn't stop thrashing soon he'd do even further damage to himself - maybe even die! But how to make that clear to a hysterical toddler?

"Kappu! It's going to be okay, alright? You just need to stop moving-" he tried to touch the boy but Kappu screamed as if Sokka had thrown a fireball at him.

"Maaaamaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!"

"Shit!" It probably wasn't okay to curse in front of the kid, but Sokka doubted he'd notice. If he didn't get little Kappu calm soon, he might lose the arm to further damage-

The water tribesman nearly hit himself for his stupidity. Years and years of training for exactly this situation, and what had he done? Disregarded it entirely. Sokka blamed his own panic and his disinclination to use this skill at all…

With great reluctance Sokka drew away from the poor boy, closing his eyes to find that special current deep within himself. At a whim it smoothed into a calm, clear pool of utter stillness. When Sokka opened his eyes naught but a few moments had passed and Kappu was still screaming. Slowly, so slowly so as not to upset his delicate equilibrium, Sokka held a tremulous gloved hand over Kappu and reached out.

The whirlwind of the toddler's fear and pain threatened to blow Sokka away, but he held on desperately to his calm, still pool. "You are calm. There is not pain, little one…Let it wash away…to sleep." He carefully avoided Kappu's name, as Gran-Gran had taught him. There was little more that any being was aware of and jolted by, both in the physical and spiritual worlds, than their name.

Kappu did not respond at first, but gradually his thrashing reduced and the raging torrent of his pain eddied and slowed - the boy's breathing evened out. Weary, Sokka caught the boy's arm gently and lowered it to the snow. For the first time in his life, he had succeeded in consciously changing another's emotions, and best of all he had done it to help a poor boy he only now remembered dying from shock so long ago at the tender age of three. He had saved Kappu, so if he could stay alert long enough to ensure the boy got help…

As the crunch of many hurried footsteps echoed over the snow, Sokka's world melted into black.

* * *

Katara celebrated her twelfth birthday the day before their lives fell apart again. The celebration was wonderful - the entire village celebrated, dancing and hooting around a small fire built of driftwood. Katara was touched that the villagers - her extended family - were willing to give up such a precious resource for her. Driftwood was hard to come by on the south end of the world; all that Katara knew of trees had come from her father's stories. When she expressed her concern to Gran-Gran, the elderly woman simply smiled and clasped her shoulder with a knarled hand.

"Do not worry when they are celebrating, Katara. It is not every day that a girl becomes a young woman!" Then Kanna winked, causing Katara to flush. She still became embarrassed by the reminder of her reaction to the First Blood, even when her grandmother insisted that it was entirely normal.

Katara saw a big grin on her father's face as he swung her into his arms as though she was still a little girl and gave her a big bear-fox hug. "Congratulations, Katara!" The villagers echoed him with a cheer, dancing and clapping with delight. Then a slim bundle seemed to appear in her dad's hands, as if by magic, and he put it in her fingers. "Go on, open it," he said when he saw her hesitation. Katara pulled the leather off and unwound the cloth, gasping.

It was a knife. A simple, undecorated knife with a bone handle and a steel blade. She stared in wonder, too transfixed to touch it. She couldn't imagine where Dad had gotten it - it'd been nearly a year since the last Earth trader had visited their village. But she knew if she tried to give the rare, prized metal back she would be rejected. A firm belief among their people was that gifts were meant to be cherished and used, not protested. "Th-thanks, Dad." He grinned at her.

"You are very welcome-" the last had escaped as grunt as the skinny thirteen-year old Sokka elbowed his bulky father in the side.

"Dad, you're stealing all her time. We want to give her gifts too!" Hakoda smiled and shoved the boy forward as Sokka grinned, proffering a tiny package wrapped in blue. She took it hesitantly, wary of her brother's unusually eager behavior. When her fingers finally managed to unknot the scrap and the skin fell away, her eyes couldn't help but widen. Nestled in dark folds, two tiny fishbone earrings blazed a pale white, shaped like crescent moons against small waves. "Oh Sokka, they're beautiful! But…" she touched her ear where the skin was unmarred by any puncture.

He merely laughed. "I guess you'll have to pierce your ears then!" He mimed sticking a pin into his head, but the motion caused Katara to smirk instead of pout as he probably expected.

"I'll only do it if you get one too." Sokka gaped at her, too dumbfounded to speak. Katara prided herself in being the only one to ever reduce him to that level. His staggered look was interrupted by Kappu tackling the boy's knees. Though Sokka flailed around, wind-milling his arms in a struggle to keep upright, he still guffawed, tripping and standing and swinging Kappu onto his shoulders. The three-year-old had been attached to Sokka like a termite since his accident. Katara had a feeling she hadn't heard the whole story, only-

Gran-Gran interrupted her as she pondered, old wrinkles cracking a grin that Katara couldn't help but return. "Close your eyes."

She obeyed without thought, and fought a flinch when something slipped around her neck. When she opened her eyes again, Katara felt as if the weight of the world had fallen between her collarbones. She knew what it was.

"It-it's not-"

"It was your mother's necklace," Gran-Gran spoke with a soft, indulgent smile. Katara's eyes started to run with tears as she touched the cool blue disk, and the villagers smiled and came forward with their own tokens of affection.

In the morning Katara woke with the taste of ash in her mouth and tears still streaming down her face.

* * *

A message had come in the night as Sedna rose to the highest point in the sky and her tiny bonfire died. The Northern Watertribe was under attack and needed help from their sister tribe, the South. Of course her father couldn't resist. He'd been itching to fight the Fire Nation - no matter what he said and did, Katara knew he still ached from losing her mom. Sokka wasn't the only one who disturbed her sleep at night; Dad's dreams told her he wanted to kill them for ripping apart his family.

But he was going to ruin them further. Didn't the North know how few they were? What help would her village be when the North was reputed to be so large? Didn't they know that she needed her dad here, with her and Sokka, not going to war and leaving them all alone? She knew that she would have Gran-Gran and the women and the small children, but what did that matter if she was forced to watch her real family fall apart around her?

Katara's eyes cracked open as she desperately tried to dispel the taste of death on her tongue. On the skins not an arm's length away, her brother sat crossed-legged with his eyes closed. That in itself was odd - Sokka was usually long gone by the time she woke, either hunting or out training on the ice planes. But he was shivering - no, not shivering, trembling – like an iceberg on the edge of collapse, Sokka was held together by a sliver, a mere shake away from falling completely.

Dad was going to leave them alone - without Mom. He was going to leave her and Sokka, just like this. Alone.

She wouldn't let Sokka collapse. She couldn't. What would she have left without her brother?

A wave of fierce protectiveness and anger washed over her, though she wasn't sure where or at whom it was directed. And just as suddenly as it came, Sokka opened his eyes and looked down at her. His gaze was stony and his posture tensed as he visibly tried to still his trembling.

"He's leaving tonight."

Neither of them seemed to know who'd spoken, but Sokka leaned toward her anyway. "It'll be okay." His voice was an attempt to placate her, but she wasn't sure it worked.

"I just don't want him to leave."

Sokka didn't respond, but the scary hardness in his face softened slightly and he looked away, closing his eyes again and taking a deep breath. Then he reached over and brushed a lock of her hair.

"Come on, let's be with him while we can."

Katara didn't feel much better, but the ash disappeared from her mouth, at least.

* * *

Sokka caught a flash of white on white - silken hair against smooth snow. _I love you_. Dark flesh faded away into pale light as he looked on. _Try again._

A glint of a fan flashed under the moon and kohl-rimmed eyes bloomed red, burning and twisting in a cage of metal that flew through the sky. _And again._

_My purpose…is to be reborn…_

Gold eyes cut through him like a knife covered in meaningless words. "_Never give up_…"

…_is to kill…_

Silver flashed, tearing through those eyes of soft gold metal.

…_is to fix…_

Sokka coughed and gasped, wheezing as blood worked its way up his throat again. _And try again._

_My purpose…is to fix…_

But it wasn't his blood that choked him this time…It was Zuko's. _You must choose._

_Because you can't fix it all._


	5. Plans in Disarray

**Chapter 5**

Sokka held himself stiff as the tribesmen loaded their skin boats. Their excitement tingled over his skin, but the boy also sensed their underlying fear and regret – for leaving their wives and children, their village, all alone with no one but Sokka to guard them. Sokka could understand their misgivings – they only knew that him as a boy; the chief's son, but a mere boy and a skinny one at that. How would he defend the tribe if the Fire Nation returned by some twist of fate? They didn't know of the man that lurked beneath the surface, watching them with eyes that had seen it all before. Sokka knew the atrocities of war and what it felt like not to fit in one's own skin, and he remembered the sensation of pain when he tripped because he half-expected his legs to be a bit longer… He knew the anguish of losing family better than any of those men, including his own father. Sokka wouldn't let his tribe feel that agony this time – he would defend them all to the death, even if he had to go to the end of the world to do so. For these reasons and more, Sokka didn't beg Dad to take him along.

That night Sokka stared over still water, allowing Katara to gravitate to him for comfort as lamp-lit prows drifted over a dark horizon.

* * *

Sokka fell into the role of the tribe leader far more quickly than he last time, but that came as little surprise. His body passed the bridge to manhood with no father and no rite of passage to mark it. Even with the majority of his time spent hunting, the village had few resources to spare for the celebration which normally accompanied a coming-of-age birthday. Sokka received the hugs of the women and children with a small smile, grateful for their well-wishes. Katara presented him with a single, semi-circular bone earring and a smirk.

A year flew by. Sokka broke an unspoken law and took Katara out to hunt. Screw tradition; he had a hard enough time providing for everyone by himself! He'd witnessed the warrior that Katara had become without the Water Tribe's inherent codes of gender to hinder her.

Sokka's face still burned with shame when he recalled the ignorance of his last life, humiliated both by the comments he'd made to Katara and the Kyoshi warriors on the general weakness of women. Sometimes he couldn't believe how quickly Katara, Suki, and Toph's combined efforts had set him straight. (He didn't include Ty Lee, Azula, and Mai because the very thought of those three crazy women made him shudder.) The women of the tribe, including Gran-Gran, gave no more protest than raised eyebrows. They knew how hard he worked to keep food in their bellies, and did not begrudge him the help of his head-strong sister.

Katara took to her new task quickly. She cringed and winced at the thought of killing any poor animal at first, but Sokka's point stood strong: "We're not killing for us, but for our families." The ice plains offered a sparse menu, and soon even Katara could separate her compassion from the exhilaration of eating turtle-seal instead of sea prunes for supper.

On the day-long fishing excursions, Sokka soon made excuses to teach Katara what little he knew of waterbending. Of course he wasn't _really_ teaching her, but he never had to wait long before his sister grew bored and started playing with her "magic water."

"You're doing a lot of pushing, Katara. Maybe you could try pulling? Let it flow to you like - uh - water. Try moving your wrists more…"

It never ceased to amaze him when she actually listened. Or when his advice _worked_.

* * *

Kanna watched with some sadness as Sokka paced the perimeter of the village walls. He never failed to check them for cracks and make sure they stood strong. He was always like that - checking and double-checking to make sure everything was in its place and he was always aware.

The elderly woman's gaze passed over him, taking in her grandson at a glance. He had changed greatly in the seven years following his mother's death; the boy was still in an awkward teen stage, all long gangly limbs and stretched bones. Yet despite his frame, Sokka moved with fluidity she'd never seen in a young man – he took warrior's steps on the snow, silent with an underlying and barely-perceptible tension.

Kanna frowned as Sokka twisted a piece of driftwood around at his feet, jamming the end into the ground before packing snow at its base in a rather random spot near the north wall. He then paced towards the wall, taking measured steps until he met the snow barrier. He nodded jerkily, moving away and leaving the mound and stick to lie in the open, where any passing villager could trip over it if they weren't careful. She shook her head – no matter how long she'd known the child, she would never know what Sokka was thinking. Kaya's boy was a strange one.

* * *

"Dare you to break down that iceberg!"

Sokka couldn't find it in himself to be disturbed at how easy it was to goad Katara. He'd known his little sister for two lifetimes; more than long enough to pick out the things which made her tick. Much like himself, if there was one thing Katara couldn't resist, it was a challenge.

The boy sat back in the canoe with slight dread. He'd planned endlessly for this day, and this was the best option he could formulate. As he stared at the iceberg whose destruction would bring the Avatar back to the world, Sokka couldn't help but feel that this was the first day of the rest of his life.

_I will save them._

"I bet you a week's worth of snowberries that I can!" Katara said, dragging him from his thoughts. Sokka smirked.

"Done!" It sucked that he'd lose, but he could give up his favorite treat if meant saving the world. His stomach vehemently disagreed. "Shut up, you," he scolded his growling midsection, thereby not paying nearly enough attention when the canoe was suddenly rocked by a giant wave. Sokka yelled as his world tilted sideways, pulling Katara into his arms a moment before the boat slammed into an ice floe, sending them sprawling across the frozen surface. Sokka struggled to his feet after a long minute when the floe finally stopped rocking, taking in the pieces of his shattered canoe. "Oh _maaan_, I can't believe this!"

The punch Katara delivered to his arm sent him face-first into the ice, and nearly into the water. "Katara! What are you-"

"This is your fault, not mine! Just so you know," she huffed, crossing her arms.

"Hey, I just dared you-" All protest died when she shot him the patented _you-are-_this_-close-to-severe-harm_ look. He shut up.

Then the water started to glow and neither of them cared about arguing anymore.

* * *

Sokka knew he shouldn't be disappointed. He'd told himself a thousand times that there was hardly a chance – barely _any_ chance that Aang would remember anything – but hope had still grown. Why would the Spirits send him back and not the Avatar? What was so special about little old him? Sokka hadn't even been a bender in the past until his freaky emotion powers showed up. Certainly the Avatar, master of all four elements and bridge between the worlds, would have been a better option.

He'd held on to the tenuous dream, a slim hope that he was not alone in his responsibility to change what was to come as Katara leaned over the prone boy dressed in garish orange. Then Aang's clear gray eyes popped open.

"Want to go penguin sledding with me?"

That was _not_ the first question asked by an Avatar who'd died by the Fire Lord's hand.

Sokka wanted to cry and hug his friend at the same time as his hopes were smothered. Instead he hung back, saying little as the exuberant airbender leapt over the ice ridge to wake Appa. As happy as he was to see the boy and his furry white monster, he'd try to avoid getting covered in bison snot this time.

* * *

_He's been trapped in an iceberg for 100 years…He's been trapped in an iceberg for 100 years…_ Sokka repeated the mantra over and over in his head, desperately trying to block out the loud whoops Aang was releasing as he entertained Katara and the small children with his airbending. In the intervening years between his rebirth and now, Sokka's memories of just how _annoying_ Aang was at this point must have faded. He had a vague recollection of snapping at the little kids; something about warrior training which had seemed all-important at the time.

It was not so now, when Sokka had seen enough of the horrors of true war to dismiss even play-training out of hand. No "training" would prepare children for bloodshed.

His mind was wrenched back to Aang as the boy slammed into a snow structure, crumbling Sokka's watchtower into nothing more than a drift. The boy laughed loudly – it was so achingly familiar, and so light. _He doesn't have the weight of the world on his shoulders yet... He's still in denial about being the Avatar._ Those thoughts were enough to make him a little bit sad. With a huff and a shake to dismiss the feeling, Sokka elbowed his sister.

In response to her glare, he hissed, "Can you get him out of here before he destroys any walls?" He said it with a smile to lighten the mood, and in turn Katara stuck her tongue out at him before turning to Aang.

"Hey Aang, want to learn how to catch a penguin?"

"Do I?" was the answer, and before he knew it the pair had disappeared beyond the walls. The kids let out disappointed groans, but eventually returned to their games. Sokka took it all in that moment – the children and women milling around, kids laughing – a warm atmosphere despite the chilly air.

He turned to fetch his boomerang and a sharpened knife from his tent.

_Step one complete._

* * *

An hour later, Sokka was listening to Katara and Aang's worried explanations with only half an ear as Gran-Gran gave them the reaming of their lives. His attention was fixed instead on the slowly-descending flare which lit up part of the sky, leading Zuko's ship right to their village.

Strange, but he'd expected to feel excitement at this moment – a buzz of something beginning, of all his years of preparation coming together. Instead he just felt incredibly tired, like someone who hadn't slept in days watching the sun rise on yet another sleepless morning. _So strange._

Guilt was starting to roll off of Aang and Katara, drawing his attention back to them as they cringed under Gran-Gran's stern but quiet reprimands. One thing about Gran-Gran – she never yelled, even when she was feeling murderous…a little bit like now.

"Gran-Gran," he interrupted, setting his hand on her stooped shoulder. He sent her a little surge of calm to soothe her anger and received a glower for his effort, but she quieted. "It's true that what they did was stupid and reckless, but they're just kids and I doubt Aang tripped the booby trap on purpose." Katara started to puff up in protest at the "just kids" comment, but Gran-Gran's glare turned on her with enough force to make even Sokka wince.

He took his hand of her shoulder and crossed his arms, not at all intimidated the scary old woman.

Well, maybe just a bit.

"That does not change the fact that the airbender has endangered our village, Sokka," she grimaced, ignoring Aang's pleas of, "But I didn't mean to!"

"If the Fire Nation is coming, they'll come whether he's here or not. I know you want to banish him-" here Katara gasped, "and I'd say yes, but isn't it better to have him at our side? This way, we've got at least _one_ proper bender to defend the village."

This time Katara's gasp was one of outrage, and Gran-Gran gazed turned her eyes on him for a long moment, consideration warring with wariness in her eyes.

"Very well, he can stay," she conceded after a minute. "But he will be _your_ responsibility, Sokka. Katara has already proven she cannot…watch over him properly." Without another word, the old woman turned, ushering away the mothers and small children who were smiling with joy at their idol being allowed to remain.

Before Sokka could react, he felt a blunt force slam into his arm. He whipped around to face Katara, who was smirking with her fist raised. "That was for the 'kids' comment. Don't forget you're only a year older than me!"

_I dread the day she meets Toph._

Then her blue eyes softened, looking back at Aang. "Thank you, though."

Sokka felt a flash of something familiar in his chest. It felt like…protectiveness? _Maaaan, she's already making kitten-doe eyes at him? I don't want to have to threaten the kid this early on-_

The object of his thoughts nearly knocked him over a second later when Aang launched at him, glomping orange-clad arms around Sokka's neck.

"Woohoo, I get to stay! Thankyouthankyouthankyou!" The boy promptly let go again, turning to prance off after Katara who was walking back into the village. Almost of its own volition Sokka's hand snaked out, catching the Avatar by his collar.

"Hold up, flyboy. You're coming with me!"

Sokka supposed his expression must have been pretty scary, because the frisson of fear that shot through him wasn't his own, and Aang had a terrified face to match it.

* * *

Sokka blamed his growing sadistic tendencies entirely on Toph, though the fact that they happened to lean in _this_ direction could be attributed to Katara.

Aang was dressed head to toe in Water Tribe blues – a warrior's outfit, built for flexibility and to wick away sweat to keep one from getting too cold. With the addition of traditional facepaint which served to mostly cover his forehead arrow, he had to admit the boy looked pretty ridiculous.

Aang tugged at his clothes with some uncertainty, sending a wistful look at his orange-hued garments piled in the corner of the tent. "_Why_ do I have to wear these again?" He turned pleading gray eyes on the older boy.

"So when the Fire Nation comes they won't immediately spot you as an Airbender. The blue arrow thing kind of gives it away," Sokka sighed. Aang had dressed in the greens of the Earth Nation and even in a Fire Nation schoolboy's uniform, so why did he have such a problem now?

_But he hasn't _really_ done that yet…_

Aang was taking on an all-too-familiar optimistic look. "But maybe the Fire Nation won't show up? I'm getting hooooot," he whined, tugging at his collar to let some cooler air under his clothes. Sokka had no idea how he could possibly be _warm_ in his monk's outfit, but the tentative question made him snort.

"Are you kidding me? The Fire Nation is always patrolling down here, and between the beam when your iceberg broke and that flare, you practically posted a sign over our village that says 'Something is going on here, come check it out!'"

Despite his words, he couldn't fault Aang for his hopeful outlook. _This is the boy who refused to accept the genocide of his people until it was shoved in his face, refused to kill anyone, and refused to back down from his own inevitable death._ Sometimes he didn't know whether to admire or pity his friend.

Properly chastened for the moment, Aang scuffed at the packed snow with his toes. Feeling a bit weird to see Aang so solemn about something not Avatar-related, Sokka finished tying up his boot and stood.

"Let's go on the look-out."

The waiting, Sokka had long-ago decided, was the worst part of any battle.

* * *

The rumbling started, and his heart began to hammer. Aang had been bouncing around for the last half-hour between the marker and the wall, confused as to why Sokka was standing inside the wall by a stick where he couldn't see anything. It'd gotten to the point where Sokka was half-tempted to bend the boy to sleep, but he resisted the urge. Gran-Gran would scold him for even considering the thought.

He might not be a waterbender, but Sokka could feel the ice breaking, sending shockwaves under his feet. Cries of fear started up behind him. "Aang, stand by me. Everyone, get inside the tents and don't come out until I say so! Katara, grab your spear!" he shouted over his shoulder, hoping he'd be heard over the rumbling of ice under their feet. They rushed to follow his words, and even as Katara rescued little Hapa from the rift, she smiled behind her fear.

Aang was beside Sokka again, eyes darting swiftly around. "What's going on?" his voice held more confusion than worry.

"Oh, nothing," Sokka grimaced, "just the Fire Nation deciding to use the back door."

* * *

Iroh dreamed of fire. This in itself was not unusual, but the location was three years gone from his mind, desperately buried in the task of trying to keep his nephew alive.

The Throne Room was on fire, wild and uncontrolled. Despite the light, shadows flickered everywhere, and spirits of darkness waited for a single misstep. Iroh did not move. In the shadows cast by flames, figures fought with spears and swords and light. He heard the echoes of the burned and dying, reverberating and familiar. No one was to be seen.

"Why am I here?" he asked aloud. He'd learned long ago that sometimes one needed to confront dreams to divine their meaning, and this was the last place Iroh wanted to be for too long. Rocks exploded, flames roared in his ears.

A name was called, the voice, recognizable but just far enough away that he could not grasp its identity. Red flame morphed into blue and back again, while Iroh stood unable to shield his eyes.

_Don't die. Sorry._

"I don't understand." Though he did not say the words, they echoed through the chamber as it grew dark and silent.

_Be ready. He's come back to the world._

Iroh woke up unsettled.

His unease did not subside, even when the apparent explanation dropped into his nephew's lap – first in the form of a beam of light, then a beacon fired from an iced Fire Navy ship. Zuko was all but crowing to the icecaps about the return of the Avatar, and Iroh knew, in his bones and spirit-touched soul, that his nephew was right.

Yet the disquiet lingered.

* * *

Katara felt like she'd walked out of her normal life and into a spirit tale. First they'd found an Airbender who was stuck in the ice for a hundred years, and now the Fire Nation was again on their doorstep, as if some malicious spirit had led them straight to the village with a trail of blood.

_But it was the flare_, she had to remind herself. _It wasn't Aang's fault, but now Mom's killers are back_ –

But Sokka was calm, collected as the hulking mass of metal cut through the mist, destroying their meticulously-kept walls and sending cracks spidering through the ice. She was frightened; spirits, she was almost too frightened to move, but her brother called out for her, telling her to arm herself. The fear dimmed, suborned by as sense of calm and a small part of elation.

_Sokka wants me to fight with him._

She placed Hapa in his mother's arms as the woman scrambled to her tent, gathering her own weapons in turn. A long hunting knife in her belt and spear at hand, Katara joined her brother at the piece of driftwood just as the Fire Nation ship came to a full stop. The mass creaked, steam hissing through its cracks like hot water dropped on snow. A ramp lowered, and Katara's grip tightened involuntarily as soon as she made out the shape of helmets through the mist.

"Easy," Sokka muttered, "just follow my lead." She took a deep breath and felt a little calmer, but couldn't quite understand why. Her brother might have something _other_ about him, but they both knew he had no real experience in fighting or diplomacy. The way Aang was anxiously shifting around shouldn't have been calming either. This was going to be a disaster.

A small gust of wind blew over the walls; the steps of the descending Fire Nation soldiers were not muffled, the sharp _clank_ of metal on metal screeching though the air. The women and children were hidden, silent, holding their breaths. Katara's eyes were drawn to the man in the middle, striding arrogantly down the ramp with no faceplate, and as he grew closer she saw the scar, burning red as her vision as Katara decided that if he hurt anyone she was going to _make him wish he'd never been born-_

"Where is he?" the man – no – teen spat in a voice that sounded like it had been put through far too much yelling. She wanted to fire her own questions back: _Why are you here? What do you mean? Why can't you just LEAVE US ALONE?_

"Where is who?" Aang asked, totally forgetting his role as the stoic, _silent_ warrior. So much for Sokka's orders.

The teen's face darkened. "The Avatar. He'd be ancient, master of all four elements-"

"We harbor no Avatar," Sokka interrupted, and though his posture was tense he made no move to draw his boomerang.

"I _know_ you're hiding him!" the angry teen shouted, fire bursting forth from his hands as the other soldiers moved to encircle them. It was all Katara could do not to scream and attack at the sight of the bending that killed Mom, but Sokka pushed her back before she could start forward.

Sokka's voice was deceptively calm: "You know nothing. You and your soldiers have broken the walls of a helpless village, endangered the lives of women and children, and ensured the ice here is no longer a stable place to live. For a _myth_ that's been gone for one-hundred years_._ Where is your honor, Fire Nation?"

For one long moment, absolute silence ruled. Then the teen roared, diving at Sokka with fire in his hands. Katara threw herself to the side as her brother ducked, countering with a move that sent both boys sprawling. Her attention went elsewhere as a faceless soldier stepped toward her.

"S-stay back!" she yelled, brandishing the spear at him. He brandished fire in response.

To her right, Aang was backing away the firebenders, saying: "Wait, we don't have to fight!"

_What is he thinking?_ Katara wondered as she stepped back warily, ready to defend the villagers and her brother. He was fighting the angry jerk, dodging all his waves of fire so far. Sokka had managed to gash the teen's right shoulder. But as quickly as she turned her attention back to the soldier, he was on her.

And then a tent was on fire. Its inhabitants screamed and fled.

_No!_ She called up water to douse the fire at the same time as Aang whirled around, propelling her bending in a wave which otherwise might not have been able to defeat the flames.

"Stop!" The airbender's staff came down on the ice with a mighty crack and a wave of wind that sent all parties flying. Sokka scrambled away from the firebending teen as he turned his gaze on Aang.

"You're the Airbender? _You're_ the Avatar?"

Katara choked on icy air. Aang didn't speak. _What? How- he lied to me?_

No longer did he look like a bouncy airbender; Aang's back was stiff and his eyes hard. "If I go with you, do you promise to leave this village alone?"

_Why are you asking that? He's _Fire Nation_, no way he'll stick-_

But the teen nodded, golden eyes gleaming as the soldiers grabbed Aang's shoulders and wrenched away his staff.

"Aang, you don't have to do this!" escaped her involuntarily.

"It'll be okay," he shot back as the clanking soldiers led him up the ramp and she swallowed back tears.

"Set a course for the Fire Nation! I'm going home."

Katara kept her gaze locked with Aang's until she was cut off, too absorbed in her sudden despair to notice the two sets of gold eyes watching her brother.

* * *

A/N: Yes, I am continuing. Thanks to my many wonderfully patient (and impatiently jerkish) reviewers. Unbetaed.


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